


Something Wanting in My Nature

by Mugatu



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mugatu/pseuds/Mugatu
Summary: I saw this tumblr prompt and my hand slipped."Okay which one of you is going to write the Ineffable Husbands college professor AU with the extremely sweet and over-sharing professor fawning over their spouse and the standoff-ish secretive professor who reveals absolutely nothing about their private life who turned out to be married? "https://yvmeji.tumblr.com/post/185880682877/okay-which-one-of-you-is-going-to-write-the





	1. Chapter 1

Adam Young is in the middle of grading papers when Pepper walks into the office with a particular expression on her face that conveys a great deal to those who know how translate it. As her best friend of the past twenty years and boyfriend of the last three he’s the foremost expert in the field, fluent in the various Moods of Pepper. In a single glance he sees “Why am I surrounded by idiots” in the faint line between her eyebrows, a perverse “I am surrounded by idiots, this is going to be so much fun” in the curl of one lip corner, and “Adam, you are in for not just a treat, but an entire cornucopia of entertaining idiocy” in the flash of her eyes.

He grins and before she can say anything he asks, “Should I run down to vending machine and grab a bag of popcorn? I can use the microwave in the lounge to heat it up.”

Pepper gives this the careful consideration it deserves before shaking her head, “This is too good for stale popcorn.”

He straightens up in his seat, lays his pen down deliberately, and laces his fingers together, “Don’t keep me in suspense, Pips.”

The curl of Pepper’s lip threatens to turn into a full-on smile at the nickname* and she gets right to it, “So you know Johnson, in Dr Fell’s intro class.”

“Greasy Johnson?” Adam asks.

“The very same,” Pepper confirms,** “At any rate, I’m in Dr Fell’s office minding my own business when he comes in twisting his hands together and with the most _pained_ look on his face. So you know what my first thought is, obviously.”

“He’s come to make a supplication to you in hopes you’ll convince Dr Fell to rethink his grade.”

“Just so,” Pepper nods, pausing so both of them can take a moment to marvel at the amusing ironies of life. Grade grubbers are a common hazard to most TA’s, students viewing them as more accessible and approachable than the lofty professors. Pepper, however, spends the beginnings of every semester in a state of unbothered bliss because at first glance she is _far_ more intimidating than soft, fluffy, and often absent-minded Dr Fell. Unfortunately by midterm students have cottoned on to the fact that as kind and sympathetic as Dr Fell is—he will never give a student a _failing_ grade for anything less than plagiarism, and even then will usually give them an opportunity to redo the work***—he is absolutely _not_ a pushover. He is in fact, under his kindly and bumbling exterior, a bit of a bastard. Then and only then will the truly desperate student crawl on their belly to Pepper.

“So I say to him, ‘Johnson, I’m sorry, but Dr Fell has made his decision, you had weeks to ask for an extension or help’ and he blurts out ‘it’s…it’s not about my grade! It’s about…it’s about something Dr Fell did. A personal thing. Maybe even… _unethical._ ’ This is when I straighten up and put on my best glare face. Because Dr Fell is a fucking _angel,_ and if a student is going to accuse him of being _unethical_ he’d better have a good reason or he’s not leaving the office alive.”

Adam snorts, “And Crowley will help you dispose of the remains.”

At the mention of Crowley Pepper’s eyes light up like a fireworks. With barely contained glee Pepper says, “Speaking of Crowley, that’s what Johnson needed to tell me about. _Apparently_ he tried to visit Dr Fell outside of posted office hours because he hates being alive. The door was open a crack, and when he peaked inside he saw,” she pauses for affect, and when she continues speaking her voice has dropped an octave in imitation of her least favorite student, “‘Dr Crowley was in Dr Fell’s lap, and they were _kissing._ With _tongues.’”_

Adam’s automatic response is a sympathetic wave of revulsion—while like any self-respecting bisexual he can acknowledge that _objectively_ Crowley is attractive he doesn’t want to think of him in sexual situations any more than he wants to think of his parents in the same state—before he starts getting offended on his mentor’s behalf. “Really? Homophobia? It’s the year of our lord two thousand and bloody nineteen, tell him to stop snooping where he doesn’t belong if he can’t take seeing two men kiss.”

The glee that lights up Pepper’s eyes is more akin to the flash from an atomic bomb than fireworks, “That was my thought as well. But before I could say anything Johnson says, ‘Dr Fell is _married!_ I just think it’s a bit hypocritical of him to lecture _us_ about ethics and things when he’s…when he’s having an _affair.’”_

Adam stares at her blankly, “What.”

Pepper continues with eyes as bright as the skies above White Sands, New Mexico circa 1945, “Johnson has _discovered_ that Dr Fell and Dr Crowley are engaged in a sordid affair.”

Adam continues his blank stare, “Is he thick? I mean, Dr Fell blathers on about Crowley all the time.” It is actually a widely known fact that the best way for a student who has not done the reading to sidetrack class discussion is to mention the professor’s husband. And it’s not just for the lazy; Dr Fell’s stories about his husband’s courtship are not only sweet but _fascinating._ Ask him about their first date and he’ll eventually end up giving an impromptu hour-long lecture on the heyday of La Scala Theatre in central London, its notorious all-nighters, and the history of underground cinema.

“No,” Pepper says, wiggling a bit like Dog when Adam has a stick he wants thrown, “Dr Fell blathers constantly about his husband _Anthony_ , who is _so_ smart, and such a _softie_ , so _romantic,_ et cetera.”

Adam is still staring at her, but his face is no longer blank. It’s morphing into something else, a glee that is practically demonic. “Johnson doesn’t _know?”_

 _“_ Oh Adam,” Pepper says, “ _None_ of them know. Apparently Johnson told some other students and there’s now a savage debate amongst the undies on whether Johnson is a liar, or if he’s telling the truth then Dr Fell must’ve gotten a divorce but hasn’t told anyone.”

“What did you say? Did you clue him in?” Adam asks in a delighted whisper.

She gives him a withering look, “I blinked back tears, and said in a trembling voice that Dr Fell is a good man, and that Johnson should keep things to himself. That he doesn’t know all the details of his professor’s personal life, and I may’ve hinted that evil Dr Crowley _seduced_ poor Dr Fell and broke his family apart. Just didn’t say the seduction was thirty years ago and by ‘family’ I meant his dickbag cultist siblings.”

“I’m so in love with you,” Adam says fervently, “Make out with me, please.”

“Raincheck?” Pepper says with genuine disappointment, “We both have too much grading to do, maybe when you get home tonight? Shirtless making out, even.”

“Deal,” Adam says, “Are you going to tell Dr Fell?”

“Of course not,” Pepper says, and Adam falls even more in love with her, “Are you going to tell Crowley?”

“Of course not,” Adam echoes, “In _fact_ the next time a student I know is also taking one of Dr Fell’s classes comes in I _might_ let something _slip_ about how angry I am at Crowley, and when they ask why say no reason, something my girlfriend—who is Dr Fell’s TA, by the by—told me, but it’s personal and I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Pepper sighs, “I’m going to leave now before shirtless making out happens anyway. You’re perfect, I love you.” She kisses her fingertips then presses them against Adam’s lips before heading back to the English building.

___________________________________________________

_*Out of the seven billion human beings on this planet there are less than a dozen who know that Pepper’s full name is Pippin Galadriel Moonchild. Of that group only four can reference it and keep their internal organs internal—her mums, Dr Fell, and Adam himself. Since they started regularly spending time together naked Adam has entered the highly exclusive category of human that can reference her legal names and not only remain un-disembowled but also make her smile with affection. He is very aware of the honor and typically saves it for special occasions such as their anniversary or when she is about to lay down some amazing gossip._

_**There is no middle ground for a student to be notable to the standard university TA; they are either utterly brilliant or utterly deserving of monikers such as “Greasy Johnson”._

_***The exception to this rule was the memorable occasion a student plagiarized one of Dr Fell’s own works._

____________________________________________________

Adam Young has at least two nicknames at the university that he’s aware of, even if no one calls him either one to his face. Both require a bit of explanation.

The first is “Snake Charmer” and has to do with Adam’s relationship with Crowley. For this to make sense one must be aware that one of _Crowley’s_ nicknames is “snake eyes”. Or simply “snake” for those students who haven’t experienced Crowley’s favorite intimidation tactic of lowering his tinted glasses down his nose and glaring. It’s a very effective intimidation tactic to those unfamiliar with [bilateral coloboma](https://www.reddit.com/r/eyes/comments/at4fmh/my_bilateral_symmetric_coloboma/) and have no idea why their professor’s pupils look like they’ve melted in snakelike slits. Crowley’s eyes being an unusual shade of amber that looks almost yellow in certain lights only adds to the effect. The Glare is only one tool in the arsenal he uses to carefully cultivate a respectful fear in all his students. The undergrads are all terrified of Crowley whether they will admit to it or not. The grad students are above any pretense and therefore perfectly willing to admit they find him even _more_ terrifying.

Adam never has, even back to his early days as a freshman, when was the only student who could get away with calling him just “Crowley” rather than _Dr_ Crowley. The speculation as to what Adam did to earn this favoritism veers from time to time into the salacious. As revolting as the implication is Adam doesn’t bother to address these rumors with the truth because it contains a fair bit of baggage that he prefers not to discuss with anyone but his gang of closest friends. Besides, as an agent of chaos Adam can’t help but enjoy the odd salacious rumor. Crowley is oblivious to this nickname as well as the accompanying whispers and Adam does his best to keep it that way; he’d find them far more disturbing than Adam did.

Crowley _does_ know about Adam’s other nickname and is ridiculously proud of him for earning it. The students hadn’t given it to him; Adam had a two members of the faculty to thank for this one. He earned _this_ appellation entirely on his own merits. Part of it is due to his looks—for starters he is very handsome, if a little on the short side. He has wide blue eyes, defined cheekbones, and a mouth made for smiles. Since he became a grad student with more important things to do than shave he’s grown an impressive beard that paired with his longish hair makes him look more than bit like white Jesus. It’s enough to lull everyone into a false sense of security that makes finding out that Adam is _not_ someone to be fucked with all the more terrifying. Especially faculty members who view students as a species only a little above common dirt.

Crowley doesn’t get along with those sorts of professors, the type to act as though interacting with students by actually _teaching_ is somehow beneath them. For all Crowley’s bluster he _cares_ about the students; cares about them deeply. Cares that they understand and love his subject as much as he does, cares that they walk out of his classroom with a lifelong passion and not just a box of facts to be forgotten once they’ve graduated. It’s why even though the majority of students find him terrifying his classes are still some of the most popular and they always have a waiting list a dozen students long.*

The thing is, Adam is… _protective_ of Crowley.

The thing is that Crowley, despite his fearsome reputation amongst the students, is a complete and utter pushover. He hates dealing with the politics involved in a university department, hates anything that takes him out of the lab or classroom. This makes it easy for certain of his colleagues to take advantage of him. Or at least it did until Adam came around.

It goes back to his other nickname and the baggage he doesn’t like thinking about. Because a long time ago a little boy found out his _real_ parents weren’t actually his _biological_ parents. In fact he found out in the most unpleasant of ways—namely said bio parents showing up out of the blue trying to exert some _claim_ over him. Which wouldn’t have been that terrible if the biologicals hadn’t been complete knob heads. Things got very ugly for a bit until a former associate of the biologicals—a Dr AJ Crowley—stepped in. Crowley knew where the metaphorical (or at least Adam hoped metaphorical) bodies were buried and was able to persuade Adam’s birth family to let him alone. Crowley stayed in contact right up until Adam began university, and now the two of them are in the process of evolving from mentor/student to close friends.

So anyone who wants to bother Crowley—student, faculty, admin, even God Herself—has to get through Adam Young first. Those who live to tell the tale do so in hushed whispers and now Dr Hastur, Dr Ligur, and the rest of their cronies refer to Adam as “the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness.” Or just “the Antichrist” for short.

Still, said protectiveness doesn’t stand in the way of Adam not only messing with Crowley but also deriving a great deal of amusement from it. During Crowley’s Tuesday lecture Adam has to bite his lip constantly as he looks at the faces of the students. Rather than abject terror or fascination there’s a lot of frosty judgement and disapproving glares. Crowley is oblivious or indifferent to his class’s mood; he only cares when students are too obvious about playing on their phones or sleeping. It would never enter his head that his students had come to the conclusion that he is an evil home wrecker taking advantage of a happily married man.

Adam understands how it happened. Not only does Crowley never volunteer anything about his personal life—Adam doesn’t think most of the students even realize he’s gay, much less in a relationship at all—he is _superficially_ as different from Dr Fell as it is possible for two people to be. Crowley is tall, lean, and dresses more like an aging rockstar than an astronomy professor. His wardrobe is exclusively tight black clothing paired with dark glasses indoors.** Crowley is constantly changing his hair—it was down past his shoulders when Adam first met him, then it spent time swept back in a little man bun, and it’s currently in a gravity-defying quiff. It’s still a deep shade of reddish brown although Adam suspects that part of that comes from a bottle these days since Crowley is nearing the big five-oh.

Dr Fell is quick to mention his personal life in general and will go on tangents about his husband in particular.*** If a person was to hear said tangents with no prior knowledge of Crowley they’d picture someone not unlike Dr Fell himself—sweet and nerdy and cheerful, who has a list of favorite poems he can recite from memory. Physically Dr Fell is Crowley’s opposite—pleasantly plump, with a middle-aged spread that testifies to his lifelong love of food and wine. He dresses like the Platonic ideal of an English Professor, in tweeds and tartans and bowties and suit jackets a decade out of fashion. When Adam was a boy Dr Fell’s hair was so blond it was almost white, and these days age has removed the “almost”. He still wears it the same way he did back in those days—short, fluffy curls like a halo around his head. Give him some oversized feet and he could star in the reboot of _The Hobbit._

Go into their respective offices and there are even more differences. Crowley’s is sterile, clean, and scrupulously organized. He has no personal effects on display, his desk his bare except for a sleek iMac that looks like it cost the earth. Dr Fell’s office—which Adam sees whenever he visits Pepper—is pleasantly cluttered. Books cover every available surface and his computer is a monster that is probably older than Adam and mostly gathers dust. Adam _thinks_ there are a few photos of Dr Fell with Crowley on his desk but if they’re in a spot a student could see they’ve been swallowed up by books.

Dr Fell wears his wedding band on the the ring finger of his left hand like a normal person, Crowley wears his on a chain around his neck and tucked under his shirt. Crowley has his glare, Dr Fell has his easy smiles and blushes. Crowley is a professorof astronomy and physics, Dr Fell is a professor of English literature. Hardest of hard sciences fraternizing with the _humanities._ Just isn’t done. Most universities they wouldn’t have much overlap in students but their school’s Core program is taught by professors from a variety of disciplines, each year with a different focus. It’s usually foisted off on the lowly adjuncts but Crowley and Dr Fell try to take at least one session a year. When they’re not able to they will at least pop into their colleague’s class for guest lectures, so they’re familiar faces amongst students from almost all majors.

Just not familiar enough for students to realize that Dr Fell’s beloved husband is Dr Crowley.

__________________________________________________

_*The ridiculously tight clothing Crowley wore also had a great deal of influence on his classes’ popularity as well. Adam might find it uncomfortable to think of Crowley that way but most students didn’t have the same problem; and in fact the terror Crowley inspired actually enhanced this._

_**Adam knows the glasses are for medical reasons—Crowley’s coloboma doesn’t affect his vision much but it does make him sensitive to light and prone to migraines. He also knows that even if it’s for medical reasons Crowley loves them terms of sheer aesthetics and is happy to have an excuse to wear them indoors._

_*** Adam learned more about Crowley when he took Dr Fell’s core class as an undergrad than he’d learned in more than a decade’s association. It had annoyed Crowley to no end, and he bemoaned that Adam would never respect and fear him now. Dr Fell just pointed out that nothing he said or didn’t say would ever have an effect on_ that.

_________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen people do this prompt in reverse, but in canon Aziraphale is the one who brings up Crowley's "wiles" unprompted plus launches into the story of how they met to a group of confused humans who have just finished saving the world.
> 
> I'm intentionally vague about where this takes place because I'm too lazy for Brit-picking. Shh, just come.
> 
> Explanation of the significance of the Scala Theatre: https://pidgydraws.tumblr.com/post/185782113741/pidgydraws-crowley-and-aziraphale-outside-the
> 
> Adam the TA: http://tinypic.com/r/15qciue/9  
> Pepper the TA: http://tinypic.com/r/308h4eb/9
> 
> Sorry for TWD peeps, I promise I will update my other fics soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Ever since Adam began sitting in on faculty senate meetings he no longer has to drag Crowley to them kicking and screaming. Even better, since Dr Fell began _his_ term in faculty senate—taking over for a colleague that had to take unexpected medical leave—Crowley no longer does things like sprawl in a seat right in front of the lectern and go to sleep in a very obvious and deliberate way.*

Adam sympathizes; no one who isn’t a complete wanker _enjoys_ serving on the faculty senate, but few loathe it as much as Crowley does. He keeps getting nominated and voted in anyway, because while many of his colleagues _are_ complete wankers they enjoy watching him suffer even more than they enjoy arguing for hours over minutiae with a hundred of their most over-educated peers or dealing with the political infighting. _Adam_ certainly doesn’t enjoy it; but unlike Crowley he is actually very, very, good at it. In fact it was after one particularly lively meeting that Adam was dubbed the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness.**

Today sadly isn’t looking to be as interesting—they’re arguing over the language of the proposed revisions to the faculty bylaws. There’s been a great deal of debate and hubbub over what the exact meaning of the word “similar” is when used in section 39b. _Some_ drama is to be expected but not the sort that Adam has much justification to contribute to.

He arrives before Crowley does, spying Dr Fell sitting next to Pepper in one of the back rows. When the professor catches sight of him he lights up, beaming warmly when Adam takes a seat next to Pepper and gives her hand a squeeze.*** It’s enough for Adam to feel a flash of guilt for all the rumor stoking he’s been doing the past week, but only a flash.

Crowley saunters in carrying a white pastry box seconds before Dr Michaels is about to call them to order. She glares at him and he ignores her, taking his time to make his way up to where his husband is sitting. He nods to Adam and takes the empty seat to Dr Fell’s left. Dr Fell is _trying_ to look disapproving but doing a miserable job of it. The second Crowley opened the door he gave a beam that makes the one he gave Adam and Pepper look like a flicker of a match next to a lighthouse at full blast. This is _before_ he notices the pastry box is from Hadestown Bakery, home of bizarre artisanal donuts in every imaginable flavor.

“Spicy chocolate for you, angel,” Crowley says, “Red velvet for Pepper, apple cinnamon for me, black licorice for the Antichrist.”

Adam shoots Pepper a glance; she grits her teeth and nods, giving him the go ahead with the caveat that he’d better gargle an entire bottle of mouthwash before he expects to kiss her next. He gives her a grateful smile and digs in. As grad students they’re too poor to afford Hadestown and it’s a rare treat.

“If everyone is here,” Dr Michaels says pointedly, “We may begin. First on the the agenda is approving the minutes of last meeting. All those in favor say ‘aye’. Motion is passed. Next item is approving the agenda for our _next_ meeting—“

Crowley theatrically throws his head back in a silent scream of the tortured and Dr Fell kicks him discretely. Crowley’s response is to be just as obnoxious in a different way, initiating a game of footsie with his husband. Dr Fell is pink all over and trying not to smile or be too loud when he delivers whispered scolds.

Pepper catches Adam’s eye and gives him a wink. He smiles in response. He hopes in thirty years’ time he’s done a good enough job of being a significant other she still looks at him the way Dr Fell looks at Crowley. If students beyond unicorns like himself and Pepper took any interest in attending faculty senate meetings they’d _all_ realize that Dr Fell’s husband “Anthony” and Dr AJ Crowley are one and the same.

Dr Michaels drones on and on, when she opens the floor for discussion the new faculty bylaws she adjusts the lighting so subtly Adam knows she’s being malicious. Crowley slouches in his seat completely subdued and massaging his temples while Dr Fell gives him a concerned glance. Crowley _could_ request that she turn the lights down, or change his seat so he’s not experiencing the full glare, but that would mean acknowledging she has succeeded in making him uncomfortable and he refuses to give her the satisfaction.

Crowley ends up giving himself away by being the one to call out, “Motion to adjourn?” seconds after the debate dies down over whether they should use the word “similar” or the phrase “comparable to” in section 39b of the bylaws.

Dr Michaels looks around hopefully for anyone else wishing to contribute before she sighs, “All in favor?” An enthusiastic “aye” ripples over the assembled faculty, “So moved. Meeting adjourned.”

Crowley is already on his feet. He gives Dr Fell’s hand an affectionate squeeze and says, “See you tonight, angel” before bolting, waving off any of his colleagues’ attempts of the standard after meeting _mingling._

Dr Fell sighs, “I’m going to have a few words with Dr Micheals then I’m going to check on him. Pepper, I should be back by next period, but if not can you open the classroom and take attendance?”

“Of course,” she says, waving him off. Once he’s gone she turns to Adam and says, “Shall we?”

He nods and gets to his feet to join her for a few rounds of post-meeting mingling. Pepper is just as good at this sort of thing as he is, and together they’re unstoppable. Once they’ve made the rounds Adam walks with her to the English building then takes his time meandering to the physical sciences building. He’s in no rush; even if Dr Fell has left by now Crowley is still no doubt in his office with the lights switched off nursing the beginnings of a migraine.

When he reaches the sciences building he practically crashes into a flustered Mary Loquacious.****

“Oh my goodness, Adam! I’m ever _so_ sorry, I was a million miles away, you would not _believe_ what just happened—“

“I’m sure I won’t, so there’s no need to explain,” Adam says. You have to cut Mary Loquacious off without mercy if you don’t want to get stuck in a conversation that only ends via ritual suicide or murder.

He’s not brutal enough, because she barrels on without pause, “I was just passing by and remembered that I haven’t been able to talk to Dr Crowley about my final project, I’ve been busy the past week during office hours and I thought I’d just pop by to see if he was in and had a few minutes—“

Adam sighs; Mary has been warned repeatedly by Crowley, Adam, and the signage***** on the professor’s office door to not just ‘pop in’ under any circumstances.

Mary is still talking, “So I knock and Dr Crowley comes to the door. And I ask him right away what’s happened, since he looks like wreck, hair messy, glasses are off and _everything,_ people said he had scary eyes and I thought they were exaggerating, anyway he just says to me, ‘I literally cannot deal with this right now’ then shuts the door in my face. So I’m heading back down the hall when I hear the door open and I think oh thank goodness, he’s changed his mind, but it’s not Dr Crowley at all, it’s Dr _Fell._ He takes one look at me, turns red, and bolts. And I’ve heard some things lately about the two of them, and—

As she chatters away at him a dark tendril of amusement uncoils in Adam’s mind. In front of him is the opportunity to either clear this thing up once and for all, or stir it up even more. Once Mary Loquacious knows something the rest of the campus knows it five minutes later, the rest of the town inten, and aliens trying to relax on Alpha Centauri by the end of the day.

“Wait, Dr Fell was in Crowley’s office?” Adam says, schooling his face in a mask of disapproval.

“Yes,” she says, “I thought Dr Fell was married? He looked a bit…a bit disheveled himself, and I’d heard some things, I’m sure there’s a perfectly _innocent_ explanation—”

Adam swallows and drops his eyes, “Dr Fell is married, yeah. Pepper says they’ve been together since they were teenagers, it’s…” he swallows again, “Look, Mary, do you mind keeping this to yourself? You’re right, there’s _probably_ a perfectly innocent explanation, but I’d hate to embarrass Dr Crowley or get him in to trouble.”

Mary Loquacious’ eyes widen and she goes mercifully silent, “Oh. _Oh._ I understand perfectly,” she winks at Adam, “No one will hear about it from me. I hope…Dr Fell is such a _nice_ man, I just—“ she makes a great show of pulling out her phone and checking the time, “Sorry Adam, I really need to get going. Don’t worry, mum’s the word.” She winks at him again before practically running off. Adam watches her go for a moment before entering the building properly. He goes directly to the men’s room, which is thankfully empty at the moment. He walks past the urinals to the one of the stalls farthest from the door, slides in, locks the door, removes his jacket, throws it over his head, and starts laughing like a pack of hyenas lost in a burning marijuana field.

____________________________________________________

_* For example he is always sure to remove his glasses first so whoever is speaking (usually Dr Gabriel) knows without a doubt he is asleep._

_**It was meant as sneering sarcasm, but Dr Hastur and Dr Ligur didn’t have the imagination to understand until far too late that naming a thing gives it power. Dr Fell could have told them, but neither man had much respect for the humanities and wouldn’t have listened anyway._

_***When Adam and Pepper first announced they were dating Dr Fell honest-to-god squealed in delight and started rambling how he knew it would happen, Adam and Pepper were just like him and Crowley when they were young if they hadn't been raised by sociopathic religious zealots._

_****Not her real name. Refer back to the notes on Greasy Johnson in the previous chapter._

_*****The sign on Crowley’s office door reads in block capitals, “OFFICE HOURS 1-3pm TUESDAY AND THURSDAY AFTERNOON. EMAIL 24 HOURS IN ADVANCE FOR APPOINTMENT IN THE EVENT THESE TIMES ARE UNWORKABLE.” The second sentence has been underlined in a red marker, has several hastily drawn arrows pointed at “EMAIL 24 HOURS IN ADVANCE” and has “Yes, even you, Mary” scrawled underneath in Crowley’s handwriting._

___________________________________________________

Adam is in perfect control of himself when he arrives in Crowley’s office a few minutes later. The lights are indeed off and the blinds drawn, the entire office dark and gloomy. The man himself is sprawled out on the floor with a cloth over his eyes. He removes it to take a look at Adam’s face and his snake’s eyes narrow, “What have you been up to?”

Adam gives Crowley his most innocent face. It’s the face seen on terrible paintings in the living rooms of countless grannies the world over, the subject walking on water or rising out of the tomb on the third day. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Crowley’s eyes narrow another fraction, “Don’t lie. You’ve been,” he puffs out a breath, “ _cackling._ ”

“You’re paranoid,” Adam says, “Pepper and I were just having a laugh after the meeting. Perfectly normal laughter.”

“I know what your post-cackle face looks like,” Crowley mutters darkly.

“I’m not touching that one. You know, if you’d just claim disability you could wiggle out of senate faculty meetings early.”

“I’m not disabled, it’s a superpower. You’re worse than Aziraphale.”*

“Suit yourself,” Adam says.

“I’m also not so easily distracted, Adam Young. You’ve been _cackling_. When I find out why…”

“Yes, you’re very scary and imposing,” Adam says, “Do you want me to proofread the questions for the final?”

“I _could_ turn you over to Dr Rael,” Crowley says.

“Mortimer is a perfectly nice man,” Adam says with a touch of bravado. The students may be terrified of Crowley, the faculty may be terrified of Adam, but _everyone_ is terrified of Dr Rael, both in and outside the astronomy department. In Dr Rael’s case the fear is actually deserved, and Adam shares it. At the same time his fear is the healthy and respectful fear he has for a great white shark—yes, it’s an ancient implacable monster capable of reducing him to scraps of blood and bone, but at the same time it prefers to sink its teeth in meatier prey and its existence doesn’t keep Adam awake at night. The type of fear Dr Rael inspires almost everyone else is the same type of fear that causes children to check under their beds and closets for monsters and lie awake clutching the blanket.

“‘Mortimer’,” Crowley mutters, “He doesn’t like you enough to let you call him that. Even the unholy trinity** don’t call him Mortimer to his face.”

“Neither do I,” Adam says, “Even though he told me to. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m not stupid either. Dead clever, me. I’ll sniff your scheme out. And yes, proofread the questions for the final as _quietly_ as possible.”

“No music? Not even the Velvet Underground?”

“Not even them.”

 _“_ What about the _Best of Queen_?”

Crowley hesitates, “Ok, for a bit. So long as you keep the volume down.”

___________________________________________________

_*The list of living humans who know that Dr Fell’s full first name is “Aziraphale” is shorter than the list aware of “Pippin Galadriel Moonchild”. Dr Fell started going by Ezra around the time he cut ties with his family, and Crowley is the only person who uses his full name freely. There’s airplane hold’s worth of baggage there that Adam has only glimpsed at and is happy to let lie. Especially as it ties in a great deal with his own baggage about his bio family._

_**Dr Rael’s closest associates—not friends—are Dr Sable, Dr Zuigiber, and Dr Chalke. It’s gossiped amongst the student body that the four of them are engaged in some weird polyamorous relationship_ † _Crowley and Dr Fell partially confirmed it to Adam last year—there is most definitely a weird polyamorous relationship going on there, but Dr Rael isn’t part of it. The nature of his relationship with the other three remains a mystery Adam is happy to let be._

† _Not that Adam thinks polyamorous relationships are in of themselves weird; just this one in particular due to the parties involved._

__________________________________________________

A few weeks later Adam is in his happy place—aka the battered couch in the flat he shares with Pepper, the woman herself tucked against one side and Dog* tucked against the other. They’re watching _Love Island_ _**_ and just enjoying being able to sit next to each other in peace.

“We might have to fess up,” Pepper during a commercial break.

“What about?” Adam asks, playing with a puff of her hair and wondering if he has the energy for making out, shirtless or otherwise before deciding that regretfully he does not and will not until after finals week.

“That Crowley and Dr Fell are married,” Pepper replies.

“No! Why would you suggest something so awful?” Adam protests. “Aside from spending time with present company it’s the only joy I can wring from life this time of the semester.” Things have reached a delightful fever pitch after Mary Loquacious corroborated Greasy Johnson’s story. Mary is a lot of things but a liar isn’t one of them, so her testimony is hard to deny and impossible to avoid. The undies are now each and every one _aware_ that Crowley has _seduced_ poor, innocent Dr Fell away from his husband. The husband he still gushes on about in class whenever he gets the opportunity; each story sweeter than the last. Known each other their entire lives. Had a forbidden teen romance, what with their respective crazy religious families despising each other even more than they despised gay people. _Anthony_ getting kicked out onto the streets, Dr Fell having to go find him. Happy marriage with loads of adventures all over the world, it’s hard to name a country Dr Fell hasn’t visited with his husband by his side.

The glares from students have escaped the classroom—Crowley can’t go anywhere without being greeted with frosty silence. He hasn’t mentioned it but Adam _knows_ it’s bothering him—he enjoys fear, love and most important of all _respect_ from the undies. Right now he’s not getting any of them; the students’ righteous anger helping them overcome their fear. They certainly don’t _respect_ him; how could anyone respect someone who try to come between such an epic love? Crowley is being spied on by students he has had no interaction with whatsoever; he can’t turn around without a gaggle of English majors glaring his way. It’s bloody _hilarious._

 _“_ Well,” Pepper says in tones of regret, “It _is_ hilarious _,_ but it’s gotten to the point where Dr Fell has noticed something is wrong. And he makes that _face._ You know the one. The kicked puppy one.”

“Oh _no_ ,” Adam says. Unlike Crowley’s snake glare Dr Fell’s kicked puppy face actually works on Adam. Pepper is stronger than he is—he’s ready to throw in the towel just _hearing_ about it and she actually has to _see_ it. “Ok, I’ll talk to Crowley about it tomorrow after class.”

“I’m gonna hold off telling Dr Fell, ask Crowley what he thinks. It occurs to me that these rumors might hurt his feelings instead of embarrass him.”

“Good call, Pips,” Adam says.

__________________________________________________

 _*Adam’s dog is a mongrel of the terrier class, white and black with one charmingly turned out ear. Adam named him “Dog” for simplicity’s sake back when he was eleven and Dog was perhapsa year old, maybe two. Most people these days don’t believe Adam when he tells them Dog is “at least” sixteen years old—there’s a bit of gray on his muzzle and he’s a bit stiff on cold mornings but other than that the little dog is more spry and active than dogs half his age. Adam just says that the oldest dog in history lived to be thirty and there’s no reason that_ his _dog should live a day less than that if not many more._

_**The closer to the end of the semester the less brain power the average grad student has to spare for anything outside of their studies beyond basic survival. Trashy reality TV and action movies are the only entertainment fit for such creatures._

_____________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turned out longer than I was expected and will require another chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Adam waits until after Crowley’s finished with his first class of the day to fess up. Get as much enjoyment out of things as he can before it’s over. Happily it coincides with Crowley’s core class, the one that’s packed full of humanities students who are incredibly familiar with Dr Fell. Adam sits in on the class, enjoying the students’ glares and borderline insubordination clashing with Crowley pretending not to notice or care about it beyond his usual posturing.*

When the class ends the students file out, almost all of them glaring at Crowley or muttering to each other behind their hands. Crowley doesn’t acknowledge it, just clicks through his lecture notes for his next class as though he’s forgotten them completely. Once the last student has left Crowley looks up from his laptop, slides his glasses off, and says, “Out with it, Adam Young. What’s gotten into them? I know you know what’s going on, if you’re not also the cause of it.”

“I’m not the _cause_ of it,” Adam says, then, “I promise you’ll think it’s hilarious when I tell you.”

 _“_ So let me just be sure I understand,” Crowley says once Adam finishes explaining. He’s giving Adam a glare that would have any other student reduced to a pile of quivering jelly begging for mercy and only has its recipient feeling mildly guilty.** “You’re telling me that the reason the students have turned into Puritanical Inquisitors stalking me all over campus is because you and Pepper started a rumor that I’m having an affair with my own husband?”

“Pepper and I didn’t _start_ it,” Adam says brightly.

“No, you just encouraged it for your own amusement.”

“Yes, we did do that,” Adam says, struggling a moment to look contrite before abandoning the attempt. He studies the expression on Crowley’s face, “Right now you’re at war with yourself, because while you might be annoyed at me you can’t deny how hilarious it is.”

“I can. I do. Spawn of Darkness—“

“ _Lord_ of Darkness,” Adam corrects, “Spawn of _Satan_. And so on.”

Crowley’s cheek twitches, “You _shit_. It _is_ hilarious, damn you.”

Adam grins, “We were going to see how long we could keep it going before someone found out. Pepper and I had bets.”

Crowley gives Adam a proper smile then. A smile like that from Crowley aimed at anyone other than his husband is a rare sight, the Halley’s Comet of facial expressions the lucky will see once or twice in a lifetime. It knocks ten years off his age and exposes his blustery evil routine for the sham it is. “I’m disappointed that you told me. Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscience.”

“Well,” Adam says, his own smile fading, “Pepper told me that Dr Fell has been making his kicked puppy face. Speaking of, should we let him know? It occurred to us it might hurt his feelings.”

Crowley’s strange eyes turn unbearably fond, “No, Zira will think it’s funnier than I do once he knows.” He looks pensive, “I almost can’t tell if you’re having me on. You mean not _one_ of them made the connection?”

Adam shakes his head, “You know you’ve only got yourself to blame. You _never_ talk about him.”

“Well, that’s a bit inappropriate, isn’t it?” Crowley says meditatively, “And old habits die hard.”

Adam suspects they’re dangerous close to the baggage claim so he _very_ delicately says, “Oh? Like from when you were kids?”

“Not really,” Crowley’s eyes get a faraway look, “ _He_ was the one who had a problem with it back then. I liked the sneaking around, thought it was a bit of a lark. Didn’t _want_ to get caught, but wasn’t afraid of it like he was. I had to chase him for _years_.”

 _Ah,_ Adam thinks, _baggage galore._ He wonders if he should change the subject but decides Crowley is perfectly capable of doing it himself, “I’m surprised. From what I understand your lot was worse than his.”

 _“_ Oh they _were,_ that’s why he got so scared. Worried about me. His lot would just get _chilly,_ my lot would kick the shit out of me then kick what was left out the door. Which they did eventually.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam says, and he is. He doesn’t know much about Crowley’s family and what he does know makes him downright vengeful.

“Ancient history,” Crowley says, waving it off, “Best thing about time, if it exists. Every day takes me further away from that part of my life. More _recent_ history’s harder to shake. Recent relatively speaking, it was oh…maybe a few years before you started?”

“Ten years is recent?” Adam asks.

“It is when you’re a withered ancient like myself,” Crowley says with dignity, “At _any_ rate I got into a dust-up with your _favorite_ professor—“

“I have lots of favorite professors,” Adam says, “Do you mean the one who smells like poo or the one who looks like a lizard?”

“One that smells like poo,” Crowley says, “It was nasty, _nasty_ business I’d rather not go into if it’s all the same—ask me about it next time I’m drunk if you must know—and he didn’t just stop at going after _me_ , had to go all out and conspire with his friends in the English Department. Tried to get Aziraphale fired as a bit of petty revenge.”

Adam files this skeleton of a story away in the back of his mind for later exploration. Unlike Crowley’s family Dr Hastur is still around and capable of having vengeance enacted upon him, “That’s rotten of him.”

“Yeah,” Crowley says, “So. Old habits. Keep things tighter to the chest since then. Plus I’m _convinced_ Aziraphale only natters on about _me_ as a practical joke. Look what hearing that sickening gushing did to _you_ ; you’ve lost all your respectful awe of me.”

“No I didn’t,” Adam says truthfully. One can’t lose what one never had, after all, “I’m pretty sure Dr Fell means it and messing with you is just an added bonus.”

“ _Dr Fell,”_ Crowley says, “You’ve known him for what, fifteen years? Aziraphale is a mouthful, but you can’t even call him Ezra?”

“I don’t call _you_ Anthony.”

Crowley rolls his eyes, “My own mother*** called me ‘Crowley’ half the time. People who are friends with Aziraphale call him Ezra or Zira. And you’re his unofficial godson and don’t. It’s funny, is all. People thinking _I’m_ the aloof one.”

Adam considers that, “Well, people also think you’re the scary one.”

“I _am_ the scary one.”

“Of course you are,” Adam says soothingly, “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m torn between telling him so he can play along,” Crowley murmurs, “Or just announcing it sometime so I can see the looks on the kids’ faces.”

“If you decide on the latter let me know beforehand so I can take pictures,” Adam says.

“Just announcing it lacks some dramatic flair,” Crowley says, “Let me give it a bit of thought.”

____________________________________________________

_* Crowley is actually far more patient and laid back with core classes composed of students from all different academic backgrounds than he with his science students he feels should know better._

_**Most of said guilt coming from remembering that Dr Fell’s feelings might be hurt rather than Crowley’s glare._

_***Adam knows that Crowley’s mother was the least terrible of his entire family so understands the significance of this._

______________________________________________________

That afternoon Adam is working in Crowley’s office when the man himself pops his head in and says, “Come on, _Lord_ of Darkness. We’re going on a field trip. English building.”

“Sure thing,” Adam replies, shooting a quick text Pepper’s way to prepare her for the possibility that Crowley is about shove his tongue down Dr Fell’s throat and declare to his entire class they are happily married.

 _Or maybe he’ll come in and beg Dr F to run away with him. Promise to challenge Dr F’s husband to a duel for his hand,_ is Pepper’s response. Adam loves her an awful lot.

“Hurry up, Spawn of Satan,” Crowley says, checking his hideous and hideously expensive wristwatch. Adam scurries to keep up with Crowley’s longer stride. When they reach the English building they head straight for J19, one of the larger classrooms that isn’t _quite_ a proper lecture hall and Adam knows is where Dr Fell teaches his core classes. Crowley’s timed it so they’ve arrived during a break and half the class is milling around in the hallway. A conspicuous hush descends as Crowley threads his way through the assembled students with Adam at his heels. The students seem too shocked by Crowley’s audacity to give proper glares but there is a flurry of Significant Looks exchanged around him that he pretends he is neither aware of nor enjoying.

Dr Fell doesn’t notice Crowley or Adam when they come in; he’s perched on the edge of his desk, hands folded in his lap and happily chatting to some of the students in the front row. Crowley pauses for a moment, a little smile on his face, and just stares at him. Dr Fell is wearing a chunky knit cardigan with a tartan pattern and a matching bowtie, gold spectacles slid down the tip of his nose. When Adam was younger there was a brief period when the thought Crowley with his stylish clothes and daring hairstyles was the “cool” one. Now that’s he’s older and knows better he realizes that neither one of them would ever be considered “cool.” However in some ways he thinks Dr Fell comes close—he’s so pointedly _un_ cool he starts swinging back around in the other direction.

Pepper, who is in the front row a few seats away from the undergrads engaged in conversation with Dr Fell, _did_ notice them when they came in, and looks like it’s Christmas and her birthday all at once. She tries to be surreptitious as she studies the students; about a third of the class is still in their seats and after a flurry of nudges and pointed coughs that same conspicuous silence descends.

Which is when Dr Fell finally looks up and sees them. His face journey is interesting—a Pavlovian brightening of his eyes, followed by a brief flash of confusion and briefer concern that morphs back into delight. He grins, cheeks a little pink as though he’s just spotted a crush he’s barely spoken to instead of the man he’s known his entire life and been in a romantic relationship with for the better part of three decades. “Well, hello. What brings you two here? Thought you would burst into flames as soon as you crossed the threshold of the English building.”

“Hey, angel,” Crowley drawls out, “The kid and I were just in the area, thought we’d pop in and say hello.”

“Oh,” Dr Fell says, smiling harder, “Hello. We’ve got a few minutes before break’s over, if you want to step out—“ Just like that Dr Fell is reminded that there are other people in the universe besides Anthony J Crowley and takes a look around the room. He blinks in confusion. The third of his class still in their seats aren’t chatting or playing on their phones, they’re staring straight ahead and giving the kind of attention that most professors (even ones as well-liked as Dr Fell) can usually only dream of. The part of his class that _was_ loitering in the hallway is trying to appear casual and not shove each other as they hurry to take their seats.

Crowley makes his way over to Dr Fell’s desk, leaning casually against it on his husband’s left side, long legs stretched out in front of him. “Oh no, nothing important. Just thought I’d see what you were up to. What’s today’s topic?”

Dr Fell gives him a sidelong look, then one to Adam, then at the students who are trying _very hard_ not to look like they’re staring. His eyes narrow briefly, like he _knows_ Crowley is playing some kind of joke but he doesn’t want to call him out in front of class.

“Your favorite topic, my dear,” Dr Fell says, blinking at the flurry of whispers that this term of endearment causes. He gives Crowley another suspicious look, “Poetry. Specifically when read aloud before an audience versus when read on page.”

“Have you read them my favorite one yet?” he throws a sidelong glance at the students.

“No,” Dr Fell says, “I’m saving ‘The Old Astronomer’ for later.” He still looks suspicious and bemused over everything but there’s a softness that he can’t keep out of his voice.

Adam already knew this is Crowley’s favorite poem—it’s a bit of a cliche for an astronomy professor, but at least in Crowley’s case it means a little more to him than that. He remembers Dr Fell talking specifically about it when Adam took his class as an undergrad—one of his tangents about how he fell in love with his husband. They’d known each other since they were _little_ kids, gone to the same school from the time they were five. Their families detested each other, each one being from a different stripe of religious crazy. Any interaction between the two of them had been hostile right up until English class when they were eleven, and an assignment to memorize a poem then recite it in front of the class. One of those horrid assignments teacher come up with for no other reason other than to torture children. Dr Fell said he was so nervous, barely able to stumble through first four stanzas of “The Old Astronomer” and staring at his feet the entire time.

_Imagine my shock when Anthony came up to me after class and asked for a copy, because he liked the poem. Said ‘it wasn’t stupid like all the rest.’ First time we spoke to each other, really, beyond schoolboy taunts._

_“_ Oh, it’s a _good_ one,” Crowley says with another lip twitch, “I can do it now, if you like. I do it better than you.”

Dr Fell raises an eyebrow, flushing, “Now I know you just want to show off. But go ahead.”

Crowley smiles in a way that is embarrassingly soft and fond. He pushes himself away from the desk and very deliberately removes his dark glasses then tucks them in his shirt pocket. Then he clears his throat, closes his eyes for a moment, lets out a steady breath, and begins reciting.

“ _Reach me down my Tycho Brahé,—I would know him when we meet,_  
_When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;_  
_He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how_  
_We are working to completion, working on from then till now.”_

Crowley isn’t just reciting it by rote memorization, he’s delivering with all the drama of a trained actor giving a Shakespearean monologue, complete with pauses for emphasis and to make eye contact with different students.

“ _Pray, remember, that I leave you all my theory complete,_  
_Lacking only certain data, for your adding, as is meet;_  
_And remember, men will scorn it, ’tis original and true,_  
_And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you._ ”

He pauses to look at Adam then, with rare and open affection, and recites the almost the entire following stanza to him.

“ _But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learnt the worth of scorn;_  
_You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn;_  
_What, for us, are all distractions of men's fellowship and smiles?_  
_What, for us, the goddess Pleasure, with her meretricious wiles?”_

On the last line his gaze flicks to Pepper sitting at Adams side, then back to where Dr Fell is staring at him with open adoration, then turns his attention back to the rest of the class.

“ _You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late._  
_But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant's fate;_  
_Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;_

 _"I have loved the stars too truly_ ,” Crowley’s voice catches just a little and he darts a quick glance back at Dr Fell before murmuring, “ _to be fearful of the night_.”

The class is so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and Crowley truly chooses to show off by finishing the poem off instead of stopping at the most famous first four stanzas.

“ _What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;_  
_You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night._  
_I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known._  
_You ‘have none but me,’ you murmur, and I ‘leave you quite alone’?_

 _“Well then, kiss me,—since my mother left her blessing on my brow,_  
_There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;_  
_I can dimly comprehend it,—that I might have been more kind,_  
_Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind._

 _“I ‘have never failed in kindness’? No, we lived too high for strife,—_  
_Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;_  
_But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still_  
_To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!_

 _“There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,_  
_To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;_  
_And remember, ‘Patience, Patience,’ is the watchword of a sage,_  
_Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age._

 _“I have sown, like Tycho Brahé, that a greater man may reap;_  
_But if none should do my reaping, ’twill disturb me in my sleep._  
_So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;_  
_See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame._

 _“I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;_  
_Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:_  
_It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,—_  
_God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.”_

When he finishes there’s a brief silence that’s broken by Dr Fell’s enthusiastic applause, and the rest of the class follows suit. As Adam watches Dr Fell discretely wipes a tear from the corner of one eye with his thumb, and Adam spies a few dewy eyes among the students as well. _He_ might feel a little dewy-eyed himself, although he would never admit it to anyone and certainly not to Crowley.

“That was beautiful, Anthony,” Dr Fell says. There’s another burst of whispers as the last of the truly thick students _finally_ catch on. Adam may or may not take his phone out and snap a few pictures at Greasy Johnson’s goggle-eyed expression as the penny drops.

____________________________________________________

Crowley was right; Dr Fell _does_ find it funnier than probably any of them did when he’s given an explanation for why his husband just showed up unannounced to his class to recite a poem like a complete fucking weirdo.

“You should’ve told me,” Dr Fell says, “We could’ve seen how long we could’ve kept it up.”

The next time Adam goes to Crowley’s office he sees that there’s an addition to his Spartan decor—a row of framed photographs on the edge of his desk for any visitor to see. Adam smiles at them—a picture of two boys, one dark and all angles; the other fair and all soft edges. Picture of the two boys a few years older wearing soccer uniforms—Crowley a lanky teenager, Dr Fell stout and a bit more muscular. A picture of them in their cap and gowns during their graduation from university. The two of them in their thirties, taken during a visit to La Silla Observatory in Chile, the pale domes housing the telescopes emerging from the arid mountains behind them. A wedding photo, and the bastard had to choose one that has Adam in it as well. He scowls; he hopes his current beard stops students from recognizing him and asking questions.

Pepper tells him he shouldn’t worry. It can take people a while to figure something out, even when it’s right in front of their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things about the photos on Crowley's desk:
> 
> This is how you should picture Aziraphale in the photo of him and Crowley visiting La Silla Observatory:
> 
> https://imgur.com/7BBdQMv
> 
> Also, Aziraphale was a very good soccer* player when he was young because Michael Sheen apparently was/I wanted to hint at the fact in canon Aziraphale *was* given a flaming sword and presumably knew how to use it.
> 
> *Football? Soccer? Where does this fic take place, anyhow? University system is very American, but dialog is a bit British, and Crowley/Aziraphale casually mention going to La Scala Theatre for their first date? The answer is FanFiclandia


End file.
